The Lion Lord
by MaxArkem
Summary: Clary's Shadowhunter training is disrupted when a new and terrifying enemy threatens the New York Institute.
1. Chapter 1

Murmuring to herself, her red hair splayed across the pillow, the young Shadowhunter shifted in her sleep. Crouched on the broad windowsill, Leo caught his breath, but she didn't wake. He cast his ears farther afield; downstairs, the quiet breathing of the older Shadowhunter mingled with that of the old wolf. Leo's lips twitched back in an instinctive sneer at the thought of his old enemy. Looking again at the young woman in the bed, his eyes tracing her slender body under the thin sheet, Leo licked his lips, anticipating the sweetness of revenge.

Clary woke to the vibrating of her phone on the bedside table. Pouting, still half asleep, she pawed at it, and brought it awkwardly to her ear.

"Yes?"

Jace's bright voice was tinged with amusement. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. You and I have a mission today."

Clary frowned into her pillow. "What?"

Jace rolled his eyes. She could hear it over the phone. "Remember, Miss Newly Initiated Shadowhunter? A mission? With me? Your two favourite things in the world, danger and myself, all bundled together in one convenient package. I'll be at Luke's in five minutes. If you're not dressed, I'm coming in anyway." He laughed, and hung up, ignoring her mumbled outrage.

Yawning, but more awake now, Clary rolled out of bed, shivering. Blinking at the bright morning light, she crossed to close the window, rubbing her arms. Her Shadowhunter leathers were laid on the end of her bed, and various weapons were scattered across her bedroom floor.

There was a knock at the door, and Jocelyn came in. "Good morning," she said, eyeing the state of the room with a raised eyebrow. "You know, it's not every mother who has to remind her daughter to tidy up the deadly weapons scattered all over her room."

Clary smiled sheepishly. "I was trying to pick something for today, but I couldn't think what to take."

Her mother smiled back, indulgent. "Right! Your first official mission. I imagine Jace is raring to go."

Clary rolled her eyes. "As always."

Her mother bent to examine the arsenal. "The tried and true is two Seraph blades and a handful of knives. These more… esoteric items need a bit more expertise than you've got at the moment."

Clary sighed. "I know! But I wanted something special… something impressive."

Jocelyn smoothed her daughter's hair. "I wouldn't worry about that. Just stick to the basics. You're with Jace, odds are you won't even get the chance to use them, you know how quick off the mark that boy is when it comes to killing demons."

Clary grinned, despite herself. "Okay."

Jocelyn kissed her forehead. "Get dressed. Luke's making pancakes, come eat something before you go."

Hurrying into her gear, she made it down to the table, and started gobbling pancakes at a ferocious rate. Luke raised an eyebrow. "Usually I'm the only one wolfing things down around here." He smiled slightly at his own pun. Jocelyn pinched his butt behind the counter, out of Clary's line of sight. He jumped, ever so slightly, and she smiled.

Clary was just eating her last bite when they heard Jace pulling up outside. Clary bolted up the stairs. "Just gonna brush my teeth," she called back, "send him upstairs!"

Luke brought her plate to the sink, and shook his grizzled head slightly. "Those two…" he murmured.

Jocelyn tousled his hair affectionately. "What? If you ask me, they remind me of us back in the day."

Luke grinned at her, slightly. "You remember what we got up to, back in the day? You better hope they're not following too closely in our footsteps."

Jace walked in just then, his black leather tight over his arms and chest. His stele was strapped to his forearm, and a row of long-bladed knives hung at his waist. "Morning!" He drawled.

Luke grinned. "She's upstairs, getting ready."

Jace hesitated a moment, unsure of himself suddenly. He glanced towards Jocelyn. "Should I…"

The older Shadowhunter raised an eyebrow. "She said to send you up after her."

Jace flushed. "Okay. Um… thanks."

Luke kept a straight face until the younger man had disappeared upstairs. Then, he and Jocelyn both burst out laughing.

Clary came out of the bathroom, straightening an errant lock of red hair, to find Jace standing squarely in front of her, his eyes teasing, his smiled crooked and confidant as ever. Despite herself, she caught her breath at the sight of him. She raised a hand and laid it against the curve of his chest. The leather was hard and smooth under her hand, and she felt the warmth of his body, even through the Shadowhunter armour.

"Hi," she breathed.

Jace chuckled, a low, rich sound in the back of his throat. "Hey," he answered, just as quietly. His fingers ran through her hair, and down her back, and he angled her face towards his, leaning down to brush his lips, tantalizingly, against hers.

For a moment, they stood there, his hands cradling her jaw and back, his lips pressed against hers, their tongues teasing each other across the divide between their mouths. Then, her heart racing, Clary took a half step back, her eyes flicking up to find his.

A spark of desire had banished his usual nonchalance. His eyes were hungry as his gaze met hers. As she watched, he managed, with an effort, to bring himself back under control. His smile returned, flickering across his face with his customary ease.

"Good to see you," he quipped, breaking the tension a little.

She laughed, still breathless, and made herself turn away from the lingering flame behind his eyes. She picked up her stele from the bed, took a few steadying breaths, then turned back.

His shirt was off, the planes of his chest gleaming in the morning light from the windows. Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, her only thought was how much she wanted to run a soft hand across his muscled chest, feel the strength and warmth, pull him closer…

She caught her breath, and glanced at his face. His eyes were measuring, amused. "We're hunting down a rogue were-wolf," he said. "I thought, since your runes are stronger, you might mark me?"

She glanced down at the stele in her hand, and nodded. "Alright. I guess that makes sense." Her voice was light; she felt almost dizzy. He took a step closer, offering the skin on his arms and chest. The dark swirls of his permanent runes stood out sharply against his bronze skin.

He didn't wince when she set the tip of her stele to his skin. Though she knew it was painful, as she drew runes for strength, endurance, speed, and skill on his chest and arms, his eyes stayed locked with hers. She breathed in the scent of his skin as she bent her head over her work. She couldn't meet his eyes.

When she finished, she glanced at him. He was still watching her with the same, intense expression. "Do me?" She asked quietly, thrilling at the thought.

He chuckled. "Anytime."

She smiled, and rolled up her sleeve to her shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed, concerned, as she winced. "Sorry, I know I should be used to that by now," she said through clenched teeth.

When he finished, he kissed the sensitive skin he'd marked, his lips soft and warm. Their touch sent shivers across her body, spreading from the point, warming her. "Sorry," he whispered.

She looked back at him, over her shoulder. He winked, and she smiled. "Okay," she said, cheerfully, dispelling the tension which had been slowly growing in the bedroom. "Rogue were-wolves. Sounds like fun! Let's go!"

Jocelyn and Luke watched them leave. Luke's face had a slight frown on it. His wife turned to him, frowning herself. "What's the matter?"

He glanced at her, his eyes shadowed. "They're hunting down a rogue wolf," he said softly.

She hesitated. "How do you know?"

Luke turned away, hunching his shoulders slightly. "I heard them talking upstairs." Jocelyn sighed. Of course he would have, with his enhanced hearing. It still took some getting used to, even after all these years, remembering the young, slight boy he'd been, trying to reconcile that with the grizzled, dangerous wolf he was now.

"One of yours?" she asked. They rarely spoke about Luke's pack. He was fiercely protective, and loyal, to the wolves under his care, and despite their mutual love and trust, he still seemed leery to share too much with a Shadowhunter. He also, even after all this time, seemed slightly ashamed of his were-wolf alter-ego when talking with her.

"No," he replied, a little harshly, "we deal with our own." She was quiet for a moment, and he turned to look at her, his expression softening somewhat. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I… know you care too."

She smiled at him, and put a gentle hand against his chest. "We don't have to talk about it."

Luke shrugged. "It's alright. I heard from some of the pack, there have been a few attacks in the city. Mundanes dead, mauled. They figure it has to be a wolf, too messy for a vampire, too vicious for a mundane."

Jocelyn hissed. "Oh no."

Luke sighed. "I would like to be allowed to do it myself, take some wolves, and figure this out on our own. But the Clave still doesn't trust us to govern our own people."

Jocelyn laid her hand gently across his cheek. "We'll bring them around."

Luke glanced up at her, looking almost startled for a moment. In some ways, despite being married to her, he still saw her as other. The wolf blood in his veins ran deep. Then, he smiled. "Thank you."

She kissed him, softly. "You're welcome."


	2. Chapter 2

Simon spotted Isabelle's phone light up, and was on it even before it began to ring. Glancing at the tall brunette, her face hidden in the shadows of her bed, he experienced a brief moment of tenderness. Then he saw the caller ID, and had a strong urge to wake her up and make her answer.

Tentatively, he put it to his ear. "Hello?"

The surprise in the voice on the other end of the line was palatable. "Simon?"

He sighed in relief. "Clary! Thank G…" he trailed off, feeling the word catch painfully in his throat.

She spoke quickly, covering up the awkward moment. "You thought it was going to be Jace?"

"Well, it is his phone." Simon was talking quietly, but he could see Isabelle shifting slightly, a frown crossing her face.

"I made him let me do it. He has a habit of antagonizing people first thing in the morning." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm not surprised," he responded, smiling himself. "Um… she's asleep right now."

Clary hesitated. "Does she… know you're there?"

Simon frowned. "Of course she does! What do you mean?"

Clary was teasing. "Oh, you know. Vampires have a bad habit of watching girls sleep."

Simon narrowed his eyes, even though, of course, she couldn't see. "I hate it when you make Twilight references."

She laughed. "I know."

Simon let her amuse herself for a moment, then, somewhat acerbically, interjected, "What do you need Isabelle for, anyway?"

"We're hunting a rogue were-wolf." Her tone was sombre, suddenly.

"Oh." Simon hesitated. "You and Jace?"

"Yes."

"Do you need her help?" He asked.

"Not exactly," she replied. "Jace just wanted her to know, in case something went wrong. You never know with were-wolves, they're not always alone."

Simon knew that only too well. "Okay, well, I'll tell her when she wakes up. If… I mean, you can always call me, you know, right?"

She sounded surprised. "Oh!" He knew she still forgot, sometimes, that he was a Downworlder himself now, a monster of the shadows, fast and strong enough to handle himself against any opponent. He tried not to sound sniffy when he replied.

"I'm not bad in a fight."

"Of course, I just… didn't think." Clary's tone was a little sheepish. "Sorry."

He grinned. Though his infatuation with the beautiful Isabelle had pushed his childhood crush on his long-time best friend from his mind, he still couldn't stay mad at her for long. "No worries. But, do call if you need a hand."

"Will do. Bye!" She hung up, leaving Simon in the darkened bedroom. As he watched Isabelle turn over, graceful even in her sleep, he was reminded of Clary's Twilight dig. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look away.

Jace glanced over as she hung up. "That was Simon, wasn't it."

Clary shrugged. "Maybe."

He shook his head. "That little blood sucker."

She punched his arm. "Hey, be nice. It's not like Isabelle's an innocent."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "I guess. But still, she's my sister."

"So where are we going," she asked, trying to divert his attention.

He gestured with one hand, the other on the wheel. "We're going to the scene of the crime. If this is a rogue wolf, that's the best place to start. They often return to the scene, the young ones."

Clary frowned. "Why?"

Jace glanced at her, more serious suddenly. "Because… they feel guilty."

She looked away. "We have to kill it? Him? Her?"

Jace's voice was cold. " _Sed lex_ , _dura lex_." He put a hand on her knee, and his tone softened somewhat. "I know it's hard. But it's the law."

Clary stared out the window as the car drove through the early morning sunlight. She felt less happy about the knives and blades she wore, now.

Leo watched from the upper storeys of an old building as the two Shadowhunters stepped out of the car, their black clothes out of place in the bright street. Police tape blocked access to the alley from the main street, but the authorities had taken all they needed from the site, and no cops remained to enforce their barricade. The two young Nephilim stepped over it and into the shadow of the alley.

Leo licked his teeth, feeling his scars twinge. His jaw worked as he tamped down the fury that rose in him at the sight of his enemy. He could wait. He could be patient. Not long now. He smiled in the half-light filtering through the broken windows, his teeth sharp, his eyes glowing like a cat's. Not long now.

Since being Turned, Simon's hearing had become much sharper. He could hear a pin drop across a football field, or the soft breathing of a person on a different floor in a crowded building. So, it was a testament to Isabelle's control and grace that he didn't even hear her as she woke up, spotted him, and pounced.

He had been sitting on the end of her bed, about to turn his phone on so he would hear Clary if she called. Isabelle caught him around the neck with a flying tackle, flipping him off the bed onto the floor. She landed, light as a cat, crouched over him, smirking.

Simon wasn't winded by the fall, only startled. He had the time, then, before Isabelle attacked again, to marvel at how, even having just rolled out of bed, she looked amazing. Her hair was slightly mussed, but it was so artfully mussed, he imagined it would take a team of stylists hours to try to replicate the effect. The runes which curled across her shoulders and collarbone, and which curled down under the line of her shirt, stood out sharply against her creamy skin.

He was fast, too, though. Having spent a childhood dreaming of superhuman strength and speed, and the sort of awesome fights he could have, he got a thrill out of every tussle in his new body. As Isabelle pounced again, he flipped onto his feet, faster than the eye could follow, and plucked her out of the air, sending her flying to crash against the bed.

She gasped, bouncing among the pillows, her limbs flailing for an instant. Then she rolled upright, balanced on her haunches, and met his laughing gaze, her eyes sparkling.

They watched each other, ready for any move on the part of the other, for a long moment. Then, Isabelle straightened, and laughed. Crooking a slender finger, she winked at him.

"Come here, vampire. I'm horny, and you're sexy when you're fighting."

Him? Sexy? And coming from a gorgeous, stylish, brilliant girl like Isabelle? It really, really, never got old.

"This is boring." Clary had been expecting something exciting, some Demon killing, or at least a bit of running and climbing. Instead, she and Jace were crouching behind a dumpster in an old alley, waiting to see if some were-wolf might, perhaps, come back to the scene of the crime.

Jace glanced over at her, grinning. "Is it not as glamorous as you had expected?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not at all." She turned to face him, pouting. In the tight space, they were practically touching.

"Don't distract me, we're on stake-out!" Jace's eyes were teasing, a few inches from her own. His hand brushed her leg as he moved a little closer. "I have to keep an eye on the street."

Clary looked over her shoulder. "Isn't that where you're looking right now?"

He frowned. "Yes…"

She grinned. "So, I can do this?" She kissed him, lightly, just a peck really. When she pulled back, though, his eyes were hungry.

"Clary…" His tone was warning, but his hand moved more firmly against her leg. His fingers curled around her knee, inching slowly up her thigh.

She bit her lip, glancing at his hand on her leg, then back at his face. "Come on… We'll notice if anyone comes down." She brought her lips closer to his, until she could feel his shaky breaths against her mouth. "It can be our cover," she said softly. "If anyone asks, we're just a couple of teenagers, making out…" She kissed him again, longer this time. She felt his fingers tighten in response, slip another inch up her leg. His thumb was practically brushing her belt now. Having his fingers on her inner thigh like that… it made her feel a little unsteady.

"I think," Jace said as he pulled away, a little breathless, "that's against protocol."

She traced his jaw with a finger. "When have you been one to worry about rules?"

He grinned, a trace of his usual cockiness reasserting itself. "You got me there." This time, he initiated the kiss, his lips pulling at hers insistently. Her hand stayed against his face, gently, cupping his cheek as his tongue traced the contours of her lip, trailed across her teeth.

She pressed herself closer, one hand against the brick wall beside them for support, the other caressing his face, her eyes closed, breathing the heady, golden scent of him. He chuckled against her lips, half a sigh, as their tongues touched, wrestled, their lips locked.

Then the dumpster exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

Simon's phone lay discarded beneath the bed; Isabelle's had been knocked flying from her bedside table. Their lips were locked, his fingers inside her, playing her like an instrument, or a puppet, each movement making her gasp, or twitch. Or, sometimes, throw everything on her bedside table across the room.

She pulled back for a moment, playing with his hair, her eyes wild with desire. She felt silky and wet under his fingers. Between moans, she smiled at him, her expression feral.

She reached up with a hand to pull her shirt down over her shoulder. The curve of her breast, arcing to its hidden tip under the collar of her shirt, drew his gaze, but she tapped her neck imperiously. Only Isabelle could be imperious with one hand, while the other pulled at his hair, wild with the pleasure of his touch.

"Breakfast," she hissed.

Simon was hungry. And it felt so good… and she wanted it… His fangs popped from his gums, and he sank them into her vein, lapping greedily at the hot, sweet, blood. She screamed, bucking under his hands, her eyes rolling in her head. The first time they had done this, she had orgasmed five times in a row, and Simon had been just waiting for her parents to break down the door. Later, laughing, she had explained that her room was soundproofed. It was just as well; she was very loud.

He could only go for a minute. He didn't want to weaken her, and she, lost in the dual ecstasy of his teeth and his fingers, would not stop him. Indeed, she groaned and pouted when he pulled back, the punctures in her neck tiny, already closing over. He licked his fangs, swallowing the last of her blood with a twinge of regret.

"Simon…" Her voice was rough and low, halfway to breaking again. Her fingers pulled at his shirt, squeezed him and pinched him through the fabric. "If _you're_ not going to suck on _me_ …" She grinned that same feral smile, her eyes flashing.

Her nimble fingers had his pants undone and off him in a moment. Simon rolled onto his back, anticipation quickening his breath and heartbeat. Isabelle's cool hands wrapped around his cock, and she purred contentedly, glancing at him to make sure he was watching as she licked her lips.

Her mouth was warm as it closed around his cock. Three times, she thrust him into her, bobbing deeper each time. Then she pulled back with a gasp, and kissed her way along his shaft, stroking him with her fingers as she did. She licked him, up and down, sucking and nibbling, then sucked on his balls, her hands jacking him off against her face.

She smiled as she surfaced, eyeing his dazed expression. She popped him in her mouth again, more casually now, just bobbing up and down on the tip of his cock, her hands twisting and pulling, rubbing his balls or kneading his thighs, running across his stomach, squeezing his butt.

She giggled at his expression. "I'm sorry," she sang, pulling him out of her mouth for a second. "I haven't given you anything to do!" Grinning, she rotated until she straddled his chest, facing away from him. She bent to his cock again, and looking up, Simon was greeted with the view of her soaking pussy, trembling just within reach.

Hungry in a different way now, he hooked his arms around her legs, his hands pulling at her tight ass, and drew her down until his tongue could lick around the wetness, teasing her thighs, tracing the ridges of her, dipping inside, toying with her throbbing clit.

She moaned, loudly, against his cock, and started sucking him off in earnest, bobbing up and down until he thought he would explode. For a brief eternity, their worlds were the smell and taste of one another, and the mind-numbing pleasure of the other's tongues and lips and hands.

She came first, because stamina went along with the whole undead thing. It frustrated her, but he enjoyed being the one who took more work. She locked her thighs around his head, squeezing him hard as she came, convulsing around his tongue as he continued to lick her. Gasping around his cock, she had to stop for a moment, hair falling around his legs, her breath warm against his thigh.

"Oh, Simon!" Her voice, overcome and overwhelmed, gave him a little thrill each time she said his name like that, breathless, riding the waves of her orgasm. He reached along her body, under her loose night shirt, and cupped her smooth breasts as he continued to lick her. She moaned, turning her attention, with difficulty, back to his cock.

His satisfaction only lasted a moment. Despite her pleasure, Isabelle was an expert, and highly determined. Her tongue encircled the head of his cock, her lips pulled at the skin, her hands kneaded his balls, his thighs, pulled at the coarse hair between his legs. Though he tried to focus on his own task, her sweet taste and sultry musk only enhanced his pleasure, and after only a moment of intense ministration, he came, spasming, shaking, his hands tightening against her skin.

The first time they had fucked, Isabelle had been horrified. "You can't come?" He had been coming as she spoke, confused by the question, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation of her hands and mouth on his cock. Later, when he'd recovered, she'd told him what she meant. Though his orgasms wracked him as intensely, if not more intensely, than they had while he was human, his body was dead, and produced nothing but venom.

Then, Isabelle had realized the implication of this, and happily given him three back-to-back blowjobs until he begged her for mercy. "I would miss it," she'd said, "except it sure is nice not to have a mess."

Now, she twisted around to tuck herself against his neck, her heart racing, her breasts soft and firm under her shirt, her hair sweet and silky against his skin. She nuzzled against his shoulder, and he put an arm around her, holding her hard against him, still coming down from his climax.

"Rest a second," she whispered softly, tenderly against his ear. He smiled. "Because in a minute, vampire, you're going to fuck me as hard as you can." He could hear the smile in her voice. Her tone had been a little less tender, that time.

Clary was sent flying into Jace, and he into the wall, both of them pinwheeling down the narrow aperture between the houses in which they had been sitting. The dumpster was flaming, and car alarms were wailing in the street as Clary, dazed, straightened herself up. Jace's hand closed around her arm, helping her to stand. His eyes were clear and bright, already alert, ready to fight. He spared her a single, concerned look, then, satisfied she would be alright, looked back towards the alley.

A figure stood behind the dumpster, silhouetted, despite the brightness of the morning, by the roaring flames. As Jace started purposefully towards it, the figure ran. With a shout, Jace tore after it, somersaulting over the roaring bonfire with three feet to spare. She watched his ten-foot trajectory, open mouthed.

His footsteps receded in pursuit of their attacker. She heard him shout a name, and the hum of a Seraph blade igniting, but then they were out of her hearing range. Swearing to herself, annoyed at being left behind, she edged towards the fire, trying to see a way around.

A thought occurred to her, and she pulled out her stele. Jace's angel blood had made him strong, fast, and agile beyond the dreams of a normal man. Her own powers were subtler, but no less useful in this case.

As she searched her brain to remember the right rune, there was a shout from behind the flames, and she saw Jace fly through the air, and crash against the wall there. She gasped, heart in her mouth, but he stood up, shook his head, and grinned his cocky grin.

"Bring it on, big man," he snarled. She could hear the thrill of the fight in his voice even through the roar of the flames. She watched him fling himself, Seraph blades blazing, at his enemy, who was outside her view, further down the alley. His body, in motion, was glorious. But she couldn't stop to admire him. Whatever could knock Jace down was a formidable enemy, and she knew he needed her help. In fact, he might need more than just her help. Fumbling in her pocket for her phone, she speed-dialled Simon.

The phone went straight to voice mail. Urgently, she tried Isabelle. This time the phone rang, but no one answered. She swore. What could they be doing?

Discarding her phone, she concentrated on the rune. The image she was seeking appeared behind her eyes, a graceful curved character. She drew with her stele into the air, as if on an imaginary paper. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, with a roar that set another bunch of car alarms off in the street, a wall of water erupted from nowhere, smashing into the dumpster, dousing the flames, and sending it careening into the alley on an icy tidal wave.

Clary sprinted after it, in time to see Jace, and his enemy, picking themselves up from the ground, both dripping. Jace looked startled, which was a small victory in itself. That little triumph was driven from her mind, though, as she met the gaze of the man he had been fighting.

Standing well over six feet tall, the rogue were-wolf was broad and muscled, his scarred, tough face surrounded by a halo of yellow, dirty hair. His teeth were sharp and bared, but his eyes, deep and oddly shaped, were dark and thoughtful as they met her gaze. Clary pulled a dagger from her belt. She could feel Jace beside her, ready to attack, but as they moved forward, the tall man stepped away.

From the shadowed alley, emerging to stand between them and the rogue wolf, came three enormous creatures, their teeth bared, their eyes blazing with yellow fire. Jace swore under his breath, and Clary, unnerved, felt her heart sink.

Three lionesses, nearly as high at the shoulder as she was tall, faced them, snarling. Bracing himself, Jace raised his blades. "Come on!" He glanced at her. "Clary. Wake up. We can do this."

She shook herself to dispel her shock. Behind the broad shoulders of the lionesses, she saw the rogue wolf sauntering off. "He's getting away!" She hissed to Jace.

"Not for long." Eyes glittering, his face set into a snarl that was half rage, and half the pleasure of battle, Jace launched himself at the lions. Only a moment behind him, surprising herself with her own courage, she followed him.

The lioness she had aimed for batted aside her knife with a huge paw, knocking it from her grasp. With a growl, it leaped for her, knocking her back into the wall. Fumbling for another blade, she twisted aside as it pounced, claws raking the air where her head had been.

Jace had cut a deep gash along the back of one of his two enemies, and that lion had retreated, hissing. He circled the third beast, passing his remaining blade from hand to hand, eyes locked on the monster in front of him.

Clary's attention was torn from his battle, however, as her own lion leapt for her, landing hard on her shoulders. Clary's head hit the pavement with a sickening crash, but she had found the hilt of a knife at her belt, and she thrust upwards with it even as they fell.

The lion leaped away, keening, her knife stuck in its side. As it crashed into the opposite wall, it's form shifted, becoming a woman, young and naked, bleeding from the dagger wound in her side. With a shout, she scampered out of the alley, followed by the other wounded lion. Jace's last opponent, seeing her comrades running away, turned tail as well, but not before taking a swipe at Clary that tore across the front of her chest. She screamed, and Jace, about to race after the lions, dropped instantly to her side, his eyes wide with terror.

"Clary!" The alley was quiet, suddenly, the only sound his voice, and the throbbing in her head. Clutching at him weakly, trying not to pass out from the pain, she could only whimper. The lion's claws had left scores across her shoulder, breast, and stomach, tearing her leather armour away. It hung limply by her side, her breasts naked and bleeding.

"Oh Raziel, Clary!" He brushed her hair off her forehead, and she tried to blink the sweat and blood from her eyes. The pain across her chest was enormous, burning. Distantly, no longer thinking or seeing clearly, she heard sirens, heard Jace swear, softly, again, and felt herself flying upwards in his arms as he leapt away, carrying her with him. Then, finally, she slipped into unconsciousness.

Leo had been going to kill them both, the golden boy, and his enemy's daughter. Then, he had seen the wave of water crash out of the alley, noticed the after-etching of the rune, burning still in the air before the red headed Nephilim child, and he'd realized that killing her wasn't necessary. In fact, he'd thought, as he met her fierce gaze, there could be a better way to find his revenge. Sending his own daughter to kill him would be a sweeter victory over his hate nemesis, he thought, watching the girl's slim, lithe form under her armour. He'd smiled to himself. He had a new plan. It would not be easy to break her, he thought, but he had broken all the others. Then he called in his pride and left to go and set his trap.


	4. Chapter 4

Isabelle lowered herself onto Simon's cock, grinding her hips against his, gasping as he filled her. She grabbed his hands, and pulled them up, laying one against her breast, and sticking two fingers of the other into her mouth, sucking them with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth against him. He teased her breast, tugging at her nipple, cupping the smooth curves, squeezing and stroking.

She glanced down at him, her eyes glittering, her chest heaving. She laid her fingers over his, squeezing her own breast with his hand. She gasped, happily, her gaze locked with his. For his part, Simon lay there, feeling his cock shift inside her as her loose, talented hips swayed and ground against his.

"Open your mouth," she commanded, breathlessly. Obediently, Simon did, knowing what was coming. She put a finger against his lips, then inside his mouth, filling his throat and nose with the warm, sweet scent of her. His fangs popped from his gums on instinct, glistening with his venom.

She ran a finger along the sharp point of one, letting it pierce the soft pad of her finger. A drop of blood oozed out, gently, and Simon lapped it with a finger. So little blood served only to whet his appetite, but for Isabelle, the effect was bigger.

His venom was a drug, a brain-altering, euphoria-inducing, toxin. As she felt it flow into her, Isabelle's senses sharpened, and she gasped as the pleasure of his cock stretching her out doubled, then tripled, as her nerves woke up to the enhancing effects of his venom.

With a little scream, she let herself fall against his chest, her face inches from his. She ran her tongue along his fang, heedless of the thin line of blood it drew from her skin, lapping at the venom which glistened along its length. When her eyes met his, they were darker, the pupil's dilated until they almost filled her iris. She snarled, smiled. "Fuck me, Simon."

Locking her legs around his, she pulled him onto her, beside her. His feet found the foot of her bed, braced against it for support, and then, as she commanded, with all the strength and speed of the monster he was, he fucked her, driving his rock-hard cock into her desperate, dripping pussy.

He felt none of the effects of his own venom, but her arousal was contagious, and it was with gasping breaths, and wide, bright eyes that he pounded himself into her, faster than any mortal man could have. Under the bludgeoning of his cock, Isabelle bounced, vibrated, feeling her orgasm approaching faster than she would have believed possible. She was coming, she thought with the last reasoning part of her brain, almost as quickly as a guy. She smiled to herself at that, but then the first wave of pleasure burst against her, and her mind went utterly blank.

Isabelle's first orgasm made her shudder, moan, stab her fingernails into Simon's back, raking across the skin too tough for her to scratch. The next one, following on the heels of the first, made her gasp, her eyes rolling. Almost insensible, she bit into his shoulder, tasting the vanilla flavour of his skin.

Simon didn't stop, didn't slow down, didn't relent his pounding into her. For two minutes, Isabelle experienced consecutive, constant orgasms. She screamed until her throat was raw. Her nipples, pressed against his chest, burned like coals, and her legs went numb and limp. She was a doll in his hands, her mind gone in the waves of incomprehensible pleasure.

Simon came too, three times, each time forcing himself through the orgasm to keep fucking her. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable now as it would have been before, to keep going through, and he shuddered and moaned at the hot, slippery friction of his cock inside her.

Finally, through the daze of ecstasy, Isabelle feebly pushed at his shoulder, signalling for him to stop, before he fucked her absolutely senseless. Simon, gripped in the throes of his fourth orgasm, hardly felt her hand against his chest, but he saw the movement, and, slowly, decreased his punishing pace until he moved gently in and out of her, and then, eventually, stopped.

For a long, long time, he held her in his arms, feeling the desperate racing of her heart, the pulse at her throat and thigh and temple, the gasping of her breath down a throat raw from screaming. It took everything out of her, when they fucked like this, but Isabelle had never felt a pleasure like it.

Eventually, as the last of her trembling subsided, Isabelle glanced up at him, her eyes bright, and back to their usual, beautiful selves. "Oh Simon," she whispered faintly. "That… I don't even know how to describe it."

He smiled. "It was good for me too," he quipped, keeping a straight face.

She laughed. "Oh, by the Angel…" She rolled away from him, and he realized her body was drenched in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. She glittered in the warm light. Stiffly, she sat up, and put her feet over the edge of the bed.

"If your venom wasn't a painkiller," she said, looking at him, "I would not be able to walk, I kid you not."

Simon stood to help her straighten. "Shower?" he offered.

She nodded, resting her head against his neck. "Yes… gently, baby. Gently."

They were in the shower when first Simon's, and then Isabelle's phones received Clary's call. Simon's was off, but Isabelle's lit up, vibrating on the floor where it had been thrown. In the shower, Simon and Isabelle kissed, tenderly, as he washed the sweat from her body. Neither of them heard a thing.

Clary woke up with a start. Jace was bent over her, watching her with concern. Her skin ached across her chest and shoulder, but the burning pain was gone. She glanced up at him, confused.

"I carried you up here," he explained, gesturing around. They seemed to be high up in some abandoned building. The glass in the windows was shattered, and plastic sheeting hung here and there from the ceiling. "I healed you with a rune; the scratches were long, but not too deep."

"I still hurt," Clary said, her voice rough.

Jace nodded. "That'll pass. It's just the ache from the rune, in a moment that'll be gone too."

Even as he spoke, she realized the ache had faded to nothing but a slight itch, and then that too was gone. It was at that point that she realized that her shirt was in tatters, hanging at her sides, and her breasts were naked.

She flushed, and crossed her arms over her chest. For a moment, Jace frowned, confused, still in emergency mode. Then, he registered her action, and chuckled. "Sorry. I was more focused on healing your wounds than protecting your modesty."

She glared at him, but the after-effects of the rune and the adrenaline, and the thrill of the fight and the grogginess of unconsciousness had combined to make her a little hot, a little restless. Fighting a smile, she let her hands drop, watching his eyes as they, too, dropped to her chest, despite an obvious, valiant effort on his part to keep them on her face.

"If it's not embarrassing you, then," she said casually.

Jace looked a little uncertain of himself, not an expression she recognized on his angelic face. "Uh… I thought you might be."

Clary thrilled inwardly, but kept her outward appearance calm. "Me? No… I mean, I was wounded. What does a little nakedness count for against that?" She sat up. "In fact, can you help me take the rest of it off?"

His eyes widened. "The rest of it?"

She nodded. "Yes. Look, my pants are ripped, and this shirt is holding on by a thread. Just strip me down, and then we can call Isabelle and see if she'll get me some more clothes."

She stood up, and, before his wide, disbelieving eyes, stripped out of her pants too, leaving her standing, naked except for a thin white pair of underwear, and the permanent runes on her chest and shoulders. She made an effort to hide the twinge of desire she felt as she watched him register her body, his eyes sweeping slowly up and down her legs, breasts, butt.

More calmly now, he got to his feet, and stood very close to her. "We can call Isabelle, yeah." His voice was a little breathless. "But… maybe not yet?"

Her eyes faltered a little at the intensity in his gaze, but, undaunted, she pressed herself against him, and nodded, slowly, before bending her head up to his kiss.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Luke's phone rang. Jocelyn, glancing up from her painting to watch him answer, saw the look of horror, and rage, that passed across his face as he listened.

Replying tersely, he hung up, and looked over at her. "I have to go."

She leapt up and crossed to him, turning his face to hers. "What? What is it?"

Luke's eyes were haunted. "The… someone, one of the pack, they were downtown and saw Jace and Clary, fighting. Fighting an old enemy, someone I thought I killed way back."

Jocelyn's heart leapt. "Are they alright?"

Luke looked at her, and she saw her own fear in his eyes. "I don't know, Jocelyn. He's old, and strong. Jace is a warrior, though, and Clary can look after herself. They've been through worse…"

She mastered her fear. "I'm coming with you."

He met her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I won't try and stop you."

She glared. "Damn right."

Luke crossed to the door. "We should call the Institute. Do it on the way." He pulled on his boots. Then, he glanced up at her. "What I'm afraid of isn't that he'll kill them. What I'm afraid of is that he's after me, and somehow, somehow he knows that hurting Clary would hurt me."

Jocelyn shook her head, incomprehension plain on her face. "What? Who is he? What happened between you?"

Luke pulled his coat over his shoulders. "I'll tell you on the way. We have to go."


	5. Chapter 5

Clary and Jace rolled on the floor together, kissing, deeply and warmly. She ran a hand through his soft, golden hair, across his smooth, sharp face, feeling his heat and strength through his body. His hands were gentle against her back, stroking her side, caressing the curve of her legs and shoulders.

They had kissed before, made out before, half naked, and he had seen her topless, watched her change. Something had held them back from going further, though. His hands had not touched her body as they were now, running across her smooth skin, leaving a trail of warmth behind his touch.

She pulled at his shirt, aware that she was nearly entirely naked, and he still fully clothed. She felt the rush of heat as she pulled the black shirt from his golden body, and laid her breasts against the smooth, angled planes of his chest, feeling her nipples harden at the friction between them.

He felt it too; he pulled back, lowered his face to her breasts. He took one in his mouth, the small, firm curve fitting almost entirely between his lips. His tongue circled her nipple, gently, achingly. She sighed, the sound half a moan.

Her hands ran along his muscled back, tangled in his hair as he sucked at her chest, each touch sending a sharp pleasure through her. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was sitting in his lap. She felt his cock hardening through his pants, and started to grind against him. Her thin underwear was damp, her thighs wet from the friction and his tongue.

He looked up at her, then, his eyes bright and shining. She shook her head, smiling slightly, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow. "What?"

"You," she responded, half a laugh in her voice. "You're… beautiful."

He smiled at that, amused, but not teasing. "You are so much more beautiful," he whispered, and lowered his head to nip again at her soft, tender breast.

She caught her breath, biting her lip at the feeling. "Jace," she gasped, pulling at his hair with a new urgency. He responded to her mood, pulling her face down again to kiss her, a little faster now, a little harder.

She reached a hand down, and ran her fingers lightly across the bulge in his pants, where his cock strained to be free. He shivered, his hands tightening around her in response. His fingers slipped down to cup the curve of her ass, sliding under the edge of her underwear.

Her hands moved to his belt, un-looping it and then unzipping his fly, then unbuttoning his pants, fumbling, working blind, her face still pressed against his. His cock throbbed at the proximity of her hands, straining now. His breath, too, was shorter against her mouth, and his hands moved faster across her body.

He pulled her tight against him, her hardened nipples rubbing against his skin, and rolled himself over her, holding himself above her, the muscles in his arms standing out from the effort. She took the opportunity to pull at his pants, pull them off of him, kicking them free of his ankles. His tight, black underwear bulged, and she looped her fingers into the waistband.

"Are you sure?" Jace's face was above hers, his eyes staring questioningly.

"Don't you want me to?" She tried to read his expression. He was concerned, tender, and underneath it all, fiercely aroused.

"That's not what I asked." His normal drawl was roughened by tension into a growl. She could see his need behind his eyes, like a fire.

"I want to. I'm sure." She smiled, and raised her lips to his, pulling his underwear off, and taking his cock in her hands.

It was hard, and long, warm, and pulsing in her grip. Thicker than she had expected, longer. She felt herself getting wetter, imagining it pressing against her, into her, filling her. It throbbed between her fingers, and as she kissed him, she played with it, lightly, stroking and pulling gently.

Jace groaned against her lips, his hips shifting, thrusting himself into her hands. She could feel his heart racing through her breast, which was pressed into his chest. She bit his lip, their tongues mashed together in his mouth, then hers, the tip of his playing across her teeth.

"Clary," he breathed, his breath sweet and warm. He pulled back, breaking their kiss, and met her gaze with his own, tormented eyes. "I want you."

She felt her own heartbeat quicken. Her thighs were slick, slipping together now. Her underwear was soaked through. "Take me," she whispered, her fingers looping in his hair. "However you want."

His tongue traced her jaw, his lips pulling at the sensitive skin along her neck. When she felt his mouth move down, to her collarbone, past it to her breast, slide achingly across her nipple, then continue its descent, she tensed, biting her lip, her hands twisting tighter in his hair.

His fingers pulled her wet underwear off her, and for the first time they were naked together, bodies pressed against each other's. His mouth brushed across her stomach, his tongue tracing a wet, warm, arcing line across her burning skin, down to where she quivered, wet and ready, waiting for him.

His lips touched her for the first time, pressed against her soaking thighs, then kissing the opening between her legs, his tongue entering her, gently, circling, pressing against her. She gasped at the unfamiliar, tingling sensation, feeling pressure slowly building across her gut. His hands moved smoothly up her legs, from her knees to her thighs, broad and strong, pulling softly at the skin.

His lips moved, his tongue shifted to make way for his fingers, and for the first time Clary felt Jace inside her, felt from within the touch of his body as his fingers slipped between the lips of her pussy and traced the ridged, slippery lines inside her. Simultaneously, his tongue slipped upwards to where her clit, throbbing, had slipped from its hood to greet him, exposed to his mouth.

She moaned softly at the feeling of his tongue against that most sensitive spot, and his fingers moved in and out, rubbing against the opening of her pussy, and the convulsing wetness inside. He hummed, and she felt the vibrations in his throat against her.

Her hands moved across his back, and shoulders, softly, gentle, skimming his skin as though she couldn't find the strength to touch him any more forcefully. Her mind was focused on the feeling of contact between his body and hers, inside and out.

She lay there, her head against the concrete floor, the light from the broken windows filtering across her naked body, her hands on Jace's head as it moved, slightly, between her legs. Looking down along her torso, between her breasts, which were tight and upright, heaving with her short breaths, she saw his golden hair between her thighs, his eyes closed. Closing her own eyes, letting the image of it fill her mind, she lay back again, marvelling at the thought that he was doing this, that they were together like this, that this was finally, finally, going to happen.

Shouts from downstairs finally caught the attention of Simon and Isabelle. They had been sprawled, tangled together across her bed. At the sound, she sat up, and looked down at him, alarmed. He stared back, confused, and shifted out from under her. Though she couldn't hear it, his vampire ears caught the sound of footsteps approaching up the stairs.

"Someone's coming," he said.

Her eyes widened. "Shit… You shouldn't be here." She smiled sweetly. "Sorry, Simon, someday. But I don't want to have that conversation right now." Fortunately he was dressed. Stooping to retrieve his phone, he crossed to the window, and drew back the black-out curtains. His eyes burned at the sudden brightness, but, as ever, the sunlight was only pleasantly warm, not burning, against his skin.

"Call me," he said softly, looking back at Isabelle, who was watching him go from bed, head resting on her hands, a soft smile across her lips. She nodded, and blew him a kiss, and then he slipped out the window, faster than the eye could follow, and dropped lightly to the ground below.

As he straightened, still blinking from the sun, he became aware that someone was standing, watching him, arms folded menacingly over his chest.

Simon looked up, nervously. "Um… Hi Alec."

The oldest Lightwood boy glared at him murderously. "That was my sister's bedroom you just dropped out of, vampire." Normally, he was far more polite to Simon, but just now, he seemed too angry to care about courtesy. "Care to tell me what you were doing there?"

Simon hesitated, feeling himself shrink away from the anger in the other boy's eyes. "I… I mean,"

"Don't torture the poor monster," came a chuckling, deep voice from behind Simon. Magnus stepped around and put a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "It doesn't seem right to criticize your sister for having some fun after the night we just had." The warlock spared Simon an amused, appraising look. "You don't get to criticize anyone after you let me…" He dropped his voice to a whisper, and leaned in to Alec's ear. Simon wasn't supposed to hear, but, with his superhuman hearing, he unfortunately couldn't help but hear. Had he still had blood running in his veins, he would have blushed. Alec certainly did.

"Well…" The dark-haired Shadowhunter hesitated, torn between the two other men, then sighed. "Fine." He threw Simon one last, dark look, then squared his shoulders. "Look, we'll deal with this later. For now, there's something more important going on." He turned to go into the Institute, then hesitated, glancing back at Simon.

"I guess you should hear this too, vampire," he said grudgingly. "After all, it is about Clary." He beckoned for Simon to follow him to where his parents, and a somewhat dishevelled Isabelle were just emerging onto the street.

Simon, looking down at the dead phone in his hands, and remembering his earlier conversation with Clary, experienced a jolt of terror at his words which, had he still had one that worked, would have made his heart skip a beat.


	6. Chapter 6

Leo watched the car skid to a stop outside the alley. Watched with a bitter rage and hatred as his oldest enemy exploded out from the door, and raced into the shadows, his red-headed companion at his heels. He spat on the ground, trying to rid himself of the sour taste the sight of the were-wolf had left in his mouth.

"Leah," he spoke softly. A woman was at his side in a moment, her eyes downcast.

"Lord?"

He glanced at her, noticed the cut across her ribs which was only now healing. His mouth twisted, and he looked away, back out the window. "Graymark is here. We need to keep him from his daughter until we can separate her from the warrior."

"Yes, Lord."

Leo looked out across the city. "I will find the children myself. You delay the wolf."

She nodded, and turned to go, but he caught her by the throat, his hand tightening mercilessly, dragging her back until her face was an inch from his. She choked, eyes wide. "Remember," he hissed, his eyes black with hate. "The wolf is mine. Delay him, but don't kill him, or I will destroy you for stealing my vengeance."

He released her, and she collapsed, gasping, to her knees. Her voice was strained as she answered, again, her tone devoid of pain or reproach, only a blind subservient loyalty. "Yes, Lord."

"Can I…" Jace's velvet voice was rough with suppressed desire. "Do you want me to put it in?"

Clary's toes were curled against his legs. She looked down at his face between her thighs, and nodded, as desperate as he was to feel him inside her.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I want you inside of me, Jace."

He pulled himself up until he was level with her. His eyes blazed, and he bent his lips to her neck, then to her lips. She tasted herself on his mouth, but for some reason it only made her want him more. When he didn't do it himself, immediately, she reached down and found his cock in her hands, throbbing desperately, and guided it until the burning hot tip was pressed against the lips of her pussy.

His eyes met hers, and the question passed unspoken between them. She nodded, her hands stroking his back, tracing his spine. He pushed against her, softly. For a moment, the tightness of her pussy held him back, then his cock slipped through the opening, and was inside her.

She gasped at that first, alien sensation of being filled, so completely. His thick, long cock pushed slowly, gently, further into her. He was mindful of how tight she was, and the slight painfulness that accompanied his intrusion.

When she nodded, again, breathlessly, he pushed in further, slowly and steadily, until at last she could feel his hips and balls against her ass, and knew he was entirely within her. When he withdrew, slightly, she moaned, and when he pushed back in, thrusting slowly, she raised her lips to his again hungrily.

It hurt so much less than she had been afraid it would. It felt right, him inside her, once she got over the initial strangeness. Jace's body was pressed tight against hers, her breasts bouncing against his chest as he moved steadily, thrusting against her, in and out.

His smell and warmth surrounded her, and she knew from the look in his eyes as he pushed a little harder, a little faster, testing her limits, that her tight pussy wrapped around his cock felt as incredible for him as it did for her.

She nodded again, urging him on, goading him, and he responded by increasing his pace to a steady thrusting against her. His balls slapped against her ass, his hips ground into hers, and his heart, pressed against her own, beat faster.

She threw her legs around his hips, pulling herself up against him, and pulling him, incredibly, even further inside herself. She moaned at the new pressure, feeling the tension building higher through her whole body.

Jace's cock slid in and out of her, slick with her own wetness, throbbing in time with her own racing heartbeat. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she pulled herself deeper into his kiss. They rolled together onto their sides, lying facing each other, her hip resting on his thigh as he continued to slide in and out, filling her with himself.

His hands, freed from the task of keeping himself up and above her, moved to her ass, cupping it, spreading it, squeezing. Then the moved to her breasts, cupping them between their bodies. He lowered his face to them, and caught one in his mouth, their bodies moving together as he thrust into her.

She squirmed in his arms as his teeth grazed her nipple, and his pace increased. He was pounding into her with some force now, and she could feel herself reaching the summit of tension inside her, in the taut muscles of her legs and core and back, clenching in preparation of release.

"Jace," she moaned, not quietly, and he rammed into her even harder, pushing himself still deeper into her. The tension was overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity. If it didn't break, Clary thought she might die from the strain.

It did break, though, as his cock rammed into her again, its deepest thrust yet, the thick base of his shaft pressing against her clit from inside, and pushing her, with a strangled gasp, over the edge of her pleasure. She came, arching her back, her teeth bared, clenching around his cock.

His breath came in short gasps now, and as her orgasm receded slowly, Clary called his name with a gasp. "Jace!" She pulled away so his cock slipped out of her, the sudden withdrawal leaving her feeling bereft. She gasped, and he gasped, his cock glistening and throbbing.

"Come here," she breathed, reaching to take his slippery cock in her hands. He moaned as she jacked it furiously, trying to match the pace he had been keeping inside her. On an impulse, she bent her head and took the tip of his cock into her mouth, her tongue teasing it. She tasted herself, even more strongly than before, and then he gave a strangled gasp of his own, and she pulled it out of her mouth, and he came, his cum spraying against her breasts, his cock pulsing in her grip.

For a second, he seemed held aloft by the strength of his release, poised above her as his cock bucked in her hands. Then, he seemed to collapse in, and he fell away from her, to the ground, lying there as his chest heaved, and his heart's racing beat slowed.

Clary, still feeling the last dying ripples of her own orgasm, lay still a moment herself. Then, satisfied from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, she rolled over and laughed, her lips pressed against his sweating shoulder.

A little surprised, Jace laughed too. "Wow," he said breathlessly.

She kissed him. "Wow," she agreed.

He raised himself onto an elbow, and glanced at her. "Sorry about the mess," he said, looking a little abashed. She smiled at him crookedly.

"Oh, don't be." She felt her still-damp underwear by her hand, and used it to wipe his cum from her breasts. She tossed the garment over her shoulder. "Underwear," she said teasingly, "is over-rated." She reached for her pants, and saw from his widening eyes that he understood.

"You… naughty little thing," he breathed, his eyes flashing. He smirked, and she smiled back, and then leaned in and kissed him lightly.

"That," she murmured in his ear, basking in the afterglow, "was amazing."


	7. Chapter 7

Jocelyn felt a pit of fear opening in her stomach as she saw the blood. The alley seemed covered in it, spatters across the walls, pools drying on the ground. Luke, his nose twitching, glanced at her, concern and his own fear for Clary vying with a fierce, cold anger on his face.

"It's still fresh. And mostly not human."

Jocelyn's heart seemed to twist in on itself. "Mostly?"

Luke hesitated, as if unsure what to say. "I think…" he pointed to a large pool of blood. "I think that's Clary's."

Jocelyn almost fell to her knees. What she would have done next, she had no idea. Fortunately, in a way, there was an effective distraction, in the form of the huge lioness which leapt fully over her and crashed into Luke's chest with a roar.

He fell back, changing as he did, landing on all four paws. His claws tore out, and his fangs were stained with blood as he pulled away, but his own sides were raked with claw marks, and his left foreleg limped.

Jocelyn caught one, warning look in his eyes before the lion crashed into him again, and she whirled just in time to avoid the next attacker, a lioness already wounded in the side, who had been lunging at her throat.

She managed to evade, scrabbling for her knife, but the third lioness had snuck up behind her. As she fixed her eyes on the one she now circled, the hidden beast launched itself silently through the air, it's two-inch-long claws aimed for her heart.

A golden, shimmering whip caught it in midair, wrapping around its throat, and pulling it off-course to smash into the brick wall of the alley. It staggered dizzily, the whip unwinding from its neck as quickly as it had appeared. Isabelle leapt gracefully into the fray, kicking at the wounded side of Jocelyn's second attacker. Beside her, Alec leapt with deadly precision to knock the lioness Luke had been grappling with off of him, sending her crashing to the ground.

The beasts circled, warily, and the three Shadowhunters gathered, back to back, weapons ready.

"Thanks," Jocelyn gasped.

Isabelle shot her a dazzling smile. "Anytime." Then the lions charged again, and all chatter ceased.

The beasts were smarter than any natural lion, larger and stronger, and they didn't make the same mistakes twice. Separating the three Shadowhunters, one leapt for Jocelyn, even as the other knocked Alec into Isabelle. The third, pursued down the alley by Luke, was locked in combat with the huge wolf, both animals snarling and tearing with powerful legs and claws.

Alec was winded, and Isabelle stunned. The lioness gave a snarl of triumph, and lunged for the fallen girl's throat. Alec gave a strangled shout, but he was too far away. Simon was faster. Appearing like a bolt of lightning, he locked his hands around the lioness, his fangs popping from his gums. His eyes were black with a wild fury as he hurled the animal like a stuffed toy cat away from his girlfriend.

Alec's eyes met Simon's as they gasped in the momentary respite, and there was a grudging acknowledgement in the eyes of the dark-haired Shadowhunter.

Magnus and the two Lightwood adults were next around the corner, the warlock's hands alight with fire and sparks, the two Shadowhunters armed with Seraph blades and deadly knives. Together, they drove the lions back from Jocelyn, and then from Luke. They formed a line across the alley, shoulder to shoulder, and the lionesses, bloodied and outnumbered, retreated from them, snarling angrily.

For a moment, they faced each other in silence. Then, the lions scrambled away, disappearing into the darkness. Luke shifted back into his man form, bleeding from a cut lip and scratches on his ribs and shoulder. He waved away Jocelyn's concern, however, and turned to the others.

"Thank you," he said, "but now we need to find Clary and Jace. I don't know where they are, but I can tell you that the man we need to worry about wasn't here. He is ten times more powerful than the others in his pride. If he's hunting our children," he glanced from Robert to Maryse to Jocelyn, "we need to find them first."

Leo felt the failure of his pride through their link, and he snarled angrily, but it didn't matter. They had delayed his enemies long enough, and now he had the children he had been hunting. He watched from his hiding place as they dressed, laughing, smiling to one another.

Fools, he thought, to have so quickly forgotten him, to have so quickly deemed themselves safe. Again, he gazed at the nubile form of the girl, and licked his teeth in anticipation. He would enjoy subduing her to his will.

He waited until the boy was off-balance, because the boy was the danger. Nevertheless, he was easily dealt with. Leo smiled to himself at their naivety, and as the blonde warrior was stepping into his pants, he charged him, in lion form.

Clary only saw the movement too late. Even Jace, brilliant, deadly, and controlled as he was, barely had time to turn his head towards his attacker before the immense bulk of the lion crashed into him.

He flew backwards, crashed through the broken glass of the window, and plummeted to the ground, ten storeys below. Clary screamed in horror and fear, scrabbling for her knife. The lion turned to her, his golden mane flowing around his snarling face, and shook his head. A moment later, the tall, broad shouldered man from the alley stood before her.

"Don't be stupid, child," he sneered, his accent a little strange to her ears. "You are not the fighter. If you resist me, I'll hurt you."

Clary met his gaze, and knew he was dead serious. Still, she lunged for her knife. And screamed as he stamped down with his boot on her outstretched fingers, moving faster than anyone she had ever seen.

"Again, and I will cut a finger off," he warned her, nothing but hate in his burning black cat eyes.

Clary didn't try again, pulling her fingers against her chest. She was wearing nothing but her black pants; her shirt and bra lay in tatters on the floor. She recoiled from the hungry look he cast across her body. It was lustful, but angry, promising nothing but violence.

The lion-man crouched down beside her. His voice was soft and cold. "I am Leo, child," he told her. "By nightfall, you will be a creature like me, bound to my will, body and mind." He smiled, mirthlessly. "If you don't struggle, it won't be as painful."

Clary's eyes were wide with horror. Jace was gone, dead for all she knew. No one was coming, no one knew where they were, and no one could save her. She opened her mouth to scream, but Leo's heavy hands struck her across the temple, and she fell, senseless, to the ground.

Alec and Isabelle found Jace. They had split up, searching desperately, but it was almost an hour later when the two Lightwood children found their brother, in a pile of broken glass, his body twisted at the foot of a tall building.

Isabelle gave a little scream of horror, and Alec gasped.

"Magnus!" He called, instinctively. Although the warlock had gone with Robert Lightwood to search the other side of the river, he was at Alec's side in an instant. His sparkling eyes swept across the scene, and he knelt, gently, at Jace's side.

He put a hand on his head, then chest, then turned back to Alec and Isabelle. "Anyone else would have died," he said, glancing up at the building above them. "He must have fallen at least ten storeys. I don't know the extent of the enchantments his Angel blood have given him, but he's alive, barely."

Isabelle was in tears. Alec's face was pale as he asked, "Can you heal him?"

Magnus nodded. "Of course." He spoke a word over Jace, and a moment later, the golden-haired Shadowhunter stirred.

"Clary!" His first words as he sat, bolt upright, on the pavement. The cuts from the glass were knitting themselves together as they watched, and his arms seemed to be twisting back in place, even as he regained his senses.

Isabelle threw her arms around his neck, glass crunching under her feet, and Alec stood back, pale and wide-eyed, at Magnus's side. "Thank you," he breathed to the warlock, squeezing his hand.

Magnus just looked at him.

"Jace, Jace, are you alright?" Isabelle's frantic gaze swept across his body.

The warlock sighed. "He's fine. Truth be told, after the various elaborate things you people have done to yourselves, a simple broken bone or two was a relief. Trust me to be able to heal a few cuts and bruises."

Jace's wide eyes seemed to register his sister's face for the first time.

"Iz," he said, a little off balance still.

Isabelle helped him to his feet. "Thank the Angel you're alright," she breathed. Then she glanced down at his pants. "Um…"

Jace followed her gaze, and flushed slightly. He pulled his pants up to his waist, and buttoned them. His chest was bare, the cuts across them covered in new, pink skin. "Where's Clary," he asked, looking from one to the other of them.

Magnus, who had been staring a little too appreciatively at Jace while he pulled up his pants, deferred to a scowling Alec. "We don't know," he said, resisting the urge to smack his boyfriend. "She wasn't with you."

Jace's eyes darkened, and he looked up the building. "I have to find her," he breathed, and leapt into the air, landing on a second storey window sill. In a few more leaps, he had reached the tenth level, and disappeared inside.

Isabelle swore. Alec sighed. Magnus chuckled, then raised a hand, and the three of them rose smoothly into the air, floating swiftly up to the shattered window, and stepping into the abandoned building.

Jace was kneeling over Clary's tattered shirt. No one else was in the room, not a trace. His own shirt was nearby, and Isabelle's eyes passed over a scrap of white cloth on the far side of the room, but she didn't notice it.

"She's gone," Jace whispered, almost to himself. "He took her."

"The lion?" Alec's voice was grave.

Jace swivelled. "Yes. How did you know?"

Isabelle put a hand on his shoulder. "Luke knows him. One of his wolves saw you fighting him earlier, and we all came to help, but you were already gone. The others are looking now.

"We have to look too, then," Jace growled.

It was Magnus who answered this time. "No," he murmured, ignoring Jace's aggressive glare at the word. "I can't sense a trace out of this room. This one is powerful, though I don't know in what way. I doubt you'll find him by looking."

Jace got to his feet, stubbornly. "What else can we do?"

Magnus raised a calming hand. "I'll search, but it'll take some time."

Alec glanced at him. "You'll do that?"

The warlock glanced at him. "Of course," he said, "and not just for you. I'm the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and I don't like the sound of this lion-man running rampant in my city."

Jace gritted his teeth in frustration. "We can't just wait around," he hissed. "Who knows what he could be doing to her?"

Isabelle sympathized, but she touched his arm again, trying to calm him. "We'd be wasting our time running around the city trying to find her," she said softly. "We'll find the others, and when Magnus finds where he's hiding, then," her eyes were cold, "then we'll be ready."


	8. Chapter 8

They gathered in the Library at the Institute. Jace was pacing the aisles, pent up and resentful at being kept from the search. Luke and Jocelyn sat at a table, hands brushing, the same worry and anger on both their faces.

Isabelle and Simon were sitting on the cushioned arms of an armchair by the huge fireplace. Though they were both worried sick about Clary, they tried to stay out of Jace's way, whose own anxiety could be violent, and both felt a little ashamed in the face of Jocelyn's white-faced fear.

Maryse and Robert were talking quietly in the corner. The question was whether to alert the Clave. A single Shadowhunter gone missing like this was usually not adequate cause to report to Idris, but Luke had intimated that the lions they had fought were a wider threat to the Nephilim than this incident.

Alec came in, and they all looked up. He shook his head, grimly. "Not yet." He frowned defensively at the look on Jace's face. "Magnus hasn't left the search since we got back," he said loudly.

Maryse and Robert came and put a hand on each of their son's shoulders. "We know," Robert said, "And we're very grateful to him." He squeezed Alec's shoulder, pre-empting his furious defense of his boyfriend.

Then, Alec quelled, he turned to Luke, his face grave. "Lucian, I think now, while we wait for Magnus Bane to find his lair, would be a good time to tell us everything you know about this lion man, and how you know each other."

Luke nodded, and ran a hand through his grizzled hair. Jace stopped pacing and approached, listening intently. Simon carried his and Isabelle's armchair over to the table, and everyone gathered around to listen to Luke.

"When I led a pack in Idris," he began, his fingers steepled on the table before him, "I was very young. When I recovered from the shock and horror of my new identity, I began to explore more fully the opportunities my new-found independence and power provided." He shifted in his seat.

"When word reached my pack of a war between wolves and a new, powerful enemy, I jumped at the chance to prove my strength and that of my pack to my new people. Though the war was in Africa, far away, I assembled the strongest of my pack, and answered the call to battle."

"There are few were-wolves in the savannahs of Africa, or in the countries which enclose them, but enough have made their way there that there was, at one time at least, a large pack in Tanzania, and it was there that the fighting was." He stopped, and glanced around at them, then returned his gaze to his fingers, and continued in a low voice.

"Our brothers and sisters had been decimated before we arrived, the pack demolished, and the Alpha slain. The next in command was a weak and wounded young wolf, who deferred to me from the moment we arrived. The African pack told us how, weeks earlier, a wolf had been attacked in the night by a lion pride. It wasn't unheard of, in a land with so many big predators, but usually the wolves can escape. Not so in this case; the wolf had been torn apart, her body left on the plain. When her friends found her, the pack hunted down the lions, and had realized, when the scent led into the cities, that they were dealing with no ordinary animals."

"More wolves were killed, but the pack tracked the lion-men to their lair, and attacked them there. They had killed a few of the lionesses, but they were stronger and faster, and the pack had been forced to flee, their leader killed." Luke looked up, his eyes misty with the memories.

"They told us that the pride was led by a solitary male, who held the others, all female, in his thrall. They fought to the death to protect him, and he was stronger and more powerful than any of the others. It was he who had killed their Alpha, and three more wolves besides."

"There weren't many of us, but we refused to let that stop us. The remaining wolves of the pack, joined now with my own, were thirsty for vengeance, and they led us to the lair. I called in for their leader to emerge and tell us who he was, and he did."

He called himself Leonidas. He claimed to be the child of a Higher Demon and a lioness, and claimed to be the father of a new species. He spat at us, calling himself 'wolfsbane', and claiming he would purge the earth of our kind and replace us with his own progeny."

"My pack attacked from behind as he, distracted, was talking with me. They killed all the lionesses in the lair, helped by surprise and their leader's absence from them. Apart from him, they were far easier to destroy. When Leonidas realized what was happening, I changed and fought him. His strength seemed diminished by the slaughter of his pride, and I managed to overpower him, wounding him badly."

Luke sighed. "He escaped, but I thought he would die of his wounds. We left there as conquerors, feeling we had struck a blow for our whole race, and nipped a threat to all of us in the bud. I never imagined to see him again."

Clary woke up in the dark and the cold. She blinked, catching her breath, and stared around her, but there was no light in the shadows surrounded her. She struggled, and realized she was tied up against a wall, her arms spread apart and tied by rough cords above her, her feet spread apart and tied to the ground in the same way.

Then, with a deeper sense of dread, feeling the chill air against her skin, she realized she was naked. She tried to listen for some sound, but there was nothing but silence and darkness. She pulled at her bindings, but she couldn't move her arms or legs even an inch in any direction.

Then she heard footsteps, and tensed.

A light appeared in the darkness, two candles approached. Each illuminated the face of a young woman, their faces drawn, their blonde hair falling around their faces. Then they stopped next to Clary, and she saw the third person.

Leo was shirtless, his scarred chest gleaming in the candlelight. His cat eyes glittered as he stared at her. "Shadowhunter," he said softly, "allow me to introduce you. This is Leah, and this is Rebecca. They are lions, like me. I turned them into what they are, bound them to me. Their strength is mine, as my power is theirs, and they are my slaves. They obey me in everything."

Clary shuddered, glancing from one vacant, beautiful face to the other. Then her gaze was drawn, back, inexorably, to the barely concealed emotions lying just under the calm surface of the lion-man's face.

"I am going to do this to you," he hissed. She recoiled from him, and he stepped closer, until his body was only inches from her own, naked form. "It is not because I need more lions to add to my pride, though that is true. Any mortal woman I found would suffice for that. I choose you because of your gifts, the power of your rune-magic. I can absorb that power into me when I make you my thrall."

Clary turned her face away from him as he thrust his own face closer. His teeth were bared, and glittering in the candlelight. "But it's not only for this reason that I will break your will under mine, and make you my slave. When I have done so, you will be the tool of my revenge, decades overdue. You

will kill your father."

Despite her disgust and terror, the words caused a renewed horror in Clary. Her father? Would

Valentine Morgenstern's shadow never leave her life? "My father is dead," she spat, trying to ignore the menacing proximity of his muscled body.

Leo's eyes narrowed, and in a sudden outburst of fury, he hit her hard in the side of the head. Her ears ringing, she pulled uselessly at her ropes as he bent in again. "Lying bitch. And a stupid, obvious lie. My pride fought your father hours ago. He lives." Leo's fingers ran along her collarbone, his nails long and yellowed. They dug into her skin. "My revenge on the wolf is long overdue," he murmured, almost intimately. "I never intended this course of action, but it is even sweeter than my imaginings. His own daughter, turned against him." The lion's smile was feral.

The wolf… Luke. Clary realized Leo's mistake, and almost laughed. Despite the terror of her situation, the realization that he had so fundamentally misunderstood was comical. "Luke?" she asked, bravely meeting his gaze. "Luke isn't my father. My father was a monster, like you." She spat the last word in his face, and he recoiled, confusion vying with anger on his face.

After a moment, he spoke again. "Small matter. Graymark cares for you, that is enough for me." He half-turned away. "Enjoy the first stage of the process, Shadowhunter. I will be watching." He withdrew, into the darkness. The two women's eyes shifted to Clary's face. They set their candles in brackets beside her on the wall. Then, as one, they unclasped the long robes they wore, and let them fall to the ground. Naked, they stepped forward, reaching for her, and for all her thrashing and cursing, Clary could not do a thing to stop them.


	9. Chapter 9

Magnus burst into the library. "I found her," he said simply. Wordlessly, they were all on their feet. "They den is upstate," he explained, "somewhere remote. Near an old farmhouse."

Jace's fingers toyed with the hilt of his throwing knife. "Let's go, then." Luke nodded, and Robert and Maryse agreed.

Magnus offered a portal, and they accepted, despite the fact that it meant him staying here. The warlock had looked unhappy with allowing Alec to go without him, but the young Shadowhunter, flushing slightly, had mumbled "I can take care of myself."

Armed and ready, they reassembled outside the institute. Jocelyn's knives were sheathed across her hips. Isabelle's whip was curled around her arm, and a Seraph blade hung from her waist. Simon and Luke were unarmed, Simon's arms crossed impatiently, Luke pacing the garden. The others were armed with knives and blades typical of the Nephilim, and all of them were ready for the fight.

They hadn't expected it to start so soon, however. The moment they stepped through Magnus's whirling portal, they were spotted. Two lions, one with a scar they recognized, the other a lighter shade of tan, unfamiliar, were prowling the mouth of a cave. When they appeared, one roared a warning. An answering roar from within the cave echoed into the open air.

Luke changed, and lunged, Jace at his side. Each of them picked a lion, and with a leap, sent their target flying. The others moved to help, but at that moment six more raced from the cave, and joined the fray.

Isabelle's whip moved like molten gold in the afternoon light. Simon's form was a blur as he lunged and twisted. Jace had killed his first lion; the wounded beast from before lay dead, his knife in her throat. She had reverted to human form, her naked body lined with sweat and blood.

Jocelyn and Luke were fighting the tan lion, and Robert and Maryse another. Alec and Isabelle had one each, and Jace found himself fighting side by side with Simon. They spared each other a glance, then, grinning with the same joy of fighting, tempered by their shared fear for Clary, they lunged.

Leo's attention flickered when he heard the roars from upstairs. He swore, but remained where he was. The whole pride was here in force; they would hold them back until he had done what he needed to do. The four of them here could fight their way out when the Shadowhunter girl had been

dominated.

He turned back to the bound girl. Her red hair was plastered against her forehead, and her face was contorted, twisted between pleasure and horror. He chuckled darkly, letting his gaze sweep her body.

The woman, Leah, was kneeling between her open legs. Clary could feel her tongue and fingers inside her. Through her sense of horror, and disgust at the man who stood in the shadows behind them, watching calmly, the feeling still took her breath away.

The other woman, Rebecca, was tugging at her breasts with small, nimble fingers. She bent her face and licked a nipple, lightly, her hand running softly along Clary's side. Their touch was calming, and felt incredible, but the awareness of her situation kept a bitter tang in Clary's mouth.

"Were-wolves," Leo said suddenly, softly, as his lionesses continued their tasks, "they are clumsy and violent. Biting people to turn them, it's crude." His lips spread wide. "Lycanthrope is a disease spread through the blood. I offer a gift." He held up a black knife, marked with a twisted rune Clary couldn't recognize. Leah's tongue made her gasp, wrists chaffing at the ropes.

"The demon-blade, and the wild magic of physical coupling. When I mark you with this, you will become like me, and bound to my will." Leo took a step closer. "The bite of this blade, gifted to me by Belial, Prince of Hell, will bind your will to mine."

Clary struggled as he approached. Leah's fingers moved smoothly inside her, and she knew she was wet, dripping from the contact. Rebecca's teeth grazed Clary's rigid nipple, and she gasped again.

"Pleasure and possession have always gone together in the Dark Rites," said Leo, almost conversationally. "The women get you warm, your blood moving, your heart racing. You are at your most alive, most alert." He grinned, wickedly, enjoying her thrashing. "It must be so when the blade marks you."

He stepped closer, into the light. Rebecca moved aside, and he ran a hand across her chest. She shuddered at the feeling of his hand on her breast. "It's a shame," he said softly, "to ruin such lovely skin." Then he raised the knife. Clary screamed.

Simon heard the scream. He gasped, horrified by the sound of it. He recognized the voice at once. "Clary," he shouted. Jace looked up from his fight. Three more lions lay dead, and the remaining two were wounded, but they had lost some too. Maryse was out cold from a heavy blow, and Jocelyn had been cut deeply across the leg. Alec, too, had received a serious wound.

With a growl, Luke shook of the lion he was fighting, and reverted briefly to his human form. "Go," he snarled. "We'll hold them here." He changed back to wolf mid-leap, and met the lion as she lunged for him again. Robert's Seraph blades moved in dizzying patterns around the last beast, keeping her off-balance.

Isabelle grabbed Simon and Jace by the arms. "Come on! They can handle this, we need to get to Clary."

Inside the cave was dry, dark, and cold. One last lioness waited, guarding a heavy door. She lunged as they reached her, but the three of them were cold and furious with anger and fear for their friend. Isabelle's whip caught her by the neck, and Simon and Jace tore into her. She died before she could make a sound.

Leo whirled at the crash that resounded through the darkness. He gave a cry of fury, and as Clary watched, he transformed into an enormous lion. The knife, held poised over her head, slipped from his grasp. As he turned away, the blade fell, slicing through the rope which held her hand.

Rebecca and Leah were gone from her, lions already as she lunged through the darkness. Clary reached up with her freed hand to untie her other, then bent to free her legs. The knife, lying close by, was the only weapon.

Clutching at it, unsteady on her feet, she pursued her attackers into the shadows.

Simon had kicked the door flying off its hinges, but the darkness inside was so absolute, it left even his perfect night-vision temporarily flummoxed. By the time he had blinked his vision clear, the three lions were almost on them. He had time for a strangled yelp of warning, then one of the lionesses on the side crashed against him, driving him away from the others.

He had a single, wild glimpse of another crashing into Isabelle, and a huge maned lion, twice the size of the other animals, crashing against Jace in the centre. Then, he was gone, wrestling in the darkness.

Clary heard the sounds of fighting, but her vision, outside the circle of light, was useless. She could see nothing, and the cold flagstones she stepped on gave no indication of what direction was what.

Then, a voice she knew gave a shout. "Gabriel!" The Seraph blade blazed with the power of the name, and in the sudden light, she could see everything. Simon had Leah by the throat, even as her claws raked across his shoulders. Isabelle had rolled away from Rebecca, and the two circled each other, Isabelle seeing by the faint glow of her whip.

Just in front of her, Jace was glorious as he swung Gabriel, driving back every attack of Leo's. Still, she knew the monster was too powerful even for him to face alone. She was only a few feet behind him, only inches from the whip of his tufted tail, and the muscled grace of his back legs as they tensed and twisted.

Leo felt the Seraph blade burn as it passed before his face. The golden-haired Shadowhunter was a fierce, and powerful warrior. Leo smiled to himself. His fierceness and power was no match for Leo's demon-given strength and cunning. As he let the boy slash at him, he tensed his legs, ready to leap. After a particularly long swing, which left him slightly off-balance, Leo sprang.

Only to feel a cold, bitter, pinching pain spreading from his heart, out to every corner of his body, and his vision, inexplicably, fade to darkness.

Jace realized he was dead the moment he swung. Too hard, he cursed himself, too unbalanced. He realized the lion had been toying with him. Leo's eyes flashed with triumph and he sprang towards him. Jace knew he could never match that speed, never recover in time.

Clary came out of the darkness as if from nowhere. Naked, her expression feral, a long-bladed black knife clutched in her hands, she met the lion's body in midair, the knife stabbing deep into his body with a sickening slick sound.

Leo died on the blade he had threatened her with, the blade he had been given by the Greater Demon Belial. Clary found her hands shaking as she stepped away from the body. She saw Jace, staring at her in the light of his sword. Across the room, there was a horrible cry, and the scrabbling of claws, and then silence.

"Um…" Simon's voice in the darkness.

"It ran away," Isabelle said softly.

"You killed him," said Jace. "You saved my life."

She fell into his arms, feeling weak. "Oh Jace!"

He caught her, laughing, stroking her hair. "Are you alright, Clary?"

Simon was at her side then, apparently oblivious to her nakedness, his eyes glittering happily. Isabelle stood at his side a moment later, her own expression content. When she registered Clary's naked body, she gave a little shriek, and put a hand in front of Simon's eyes. He laughed, and put an arm around his girlfriend.

Clary felt weaker still, relief seeming to slow her very heartbeat. Her smile faded slightly. She felt very weak. Too weak. Then, to her horror, she became aware of a slight burning feeling at her wrist. She tried to look, but her eyes rolled into her head, and she lost consciousness. Where the knife had cut the rope as it fell, a small cut dripped blood from her wrist onto the flagstones.

She felt hands, not Jace's, closing strongly around her even as she fell from his grasp. Arms which cradled her like a child, then a voice speaking strongly, words she didn't know. She had a half-formed impression of movement, then nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

Clary woke up in her own bed. For a moment, she was disoriented, unsure where she was. The room looked different somehow; she realized it was the addition of a golden-haired boy, sitting on a chair by her bedside.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice groggy.

Jace had been dozing, his eyes closed. At the sound of her voice, his eyes opened, alert, and full of a concerned happiness. "Hey," he murmured back. "How are you feeling?"

She considered the question. Nothing felt broken, or damaged. "Fine," she said. "What happened?"

Jace's smile slipped for a moment. "That monster must have managed to cut you with his demon blade. Magnus arrived almost as soon as you passed out, managed to stop the infection. The magic would have turned you into one of those lion demons, but he reversed it. Then you slept for three days."

Clary yawned. "I feel like I've been asleep for years," she confessed, moving comfortably in the sheets.

Jace put a hand on her arm. "Clary," he said, his voice low, "you almost died. And, you saved my life." His face was close to hers, his eyes intense.

"You're welcome," she said chirpily. She reached her face up to his and kissed his lips. "Where is everyone?" A though struck her. "Everyone is okay, right?"

Jace chuckled. "Yeah, calm down. Everyone's fine. Maryse got a knock on the head, but she's up and about, and Magnus knitted up everyone else's cuts and bruises. You were the one we were worried about." He shifted onto the bed to sit next to her, running a hand lightly through her hair. "Two of the lions got away. The women who were with you. Luke and your mom are with Isabelle and Alec, hunting them down."

Clary put a hand on his thigh, her fingers moving thoughtfully across his leg. "So... no one's home?"

Jace grinned. "No..." He shook his head. "You're incredible. You've been awake five seconds!"

Clary shrugged. "We don't get enough alone time! And besides... last time, we were interrupted by a homicidal cat."

Jace rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you're so ready to joke about it."

She wondered what she was wearing. "What am I wearing?" she asked.

"I don't know..." Jace lifted the sheet and looked underneath. "Um... not much."

Clary raised an eyebrow. "Not much? It doesn't feel like I'm wearing _anything_."

He grinned. "That's what I meant." His fingers traced her jaw, his palm warm against her cheek. "Nothing is not much."

Clary pressed herself closer to him through the sheets. "I think, then, kind sir, you have me at an advantage." She fluttered her eyelashes, feeling warm and crazily happy.

Jace smirked. "I always have you at an advantage, Miss Frey."

She pouted. "Well, I don't like it."

He laughed. "What can I do to make you happier?"

She picked at the hem of his shirt. "If you weren't wearing so many clothes, that might be nice," she said teasingly.

He pulled off his shirt. She was caught off-balance by the suddenness. Despite her teasing tone, she felt her breath catch, as always, at the sight of his golden skin.

His voice was throatier now. "Anything else I can do?"

She glanced up at him, seeing her own playful desire mirrored in his eyes. "Yeah," she said softly. "And I think you can guess what it is."

* * *

The last lion was crouched, bleeding from a wound on her shoulder, in front of Luke and Alec. Jocelyn was bending over Isabelle, who was swearing fluently, trying not to look at the gash in her leg. The other lion was dead at her feet.

"What's your name," Luke asked, standing over the cowering woman.

"Leah," she replied, trembling.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. Alec glanced at him. "The law is clear," he said warningly.

Luke glared at the young Shadowhunter. "Do you set no store in circumstances? Are you such a blind follower of the Clave's precious law that you would kill a defenceless woman?"

Alec bristled, but turned away. "The law is hard," he started.

Luke cut him off. "I know your mantra, Alec." His voice was tired now, less aggressive. He looked down at Leah. "Leonidas is dead," he said curtly.

She nodded. "I felt it. And I saw it."

He glanced at her companion, still in animal form, lying beside Isabelle, whose leg had been bandaged by Jocelyn. "Are you still in his thrall?"

Leah shook her head. "No." She shivered, and glanced up at Luke imploringly. "No, I'm free of him now. We fought you because we were afraid... but if you let me go, I'll never hurt anyone again! He made us do it, we couldn't disobey him. We had no choice."

Alec scoffed. "There's always a choice."

She stared at him coldly. "That monster made me murder children, and ensnare innocents for him to add to his twisted pride. Believe me, if I could have chosen any other path, I would have. The thrall was impossible to resist."

Luke put a hand on Alec's shoulder. "Wolf Alpha's have a similar, but lesser power. A pack leader's orders are difficult, _physically_ difficult for a wolf to disobey."

Leah shuddered. "This was far stronger."

Alec shrugged. "It makes no difference. She attacked the Nephilim, kidnapped a Shadowhunter, participated in illegal, arcane rites. The law is merciless on this point."

Luke sighed. Jocelyn walked over, keeping an eye on an angry, limping Isabelle. The tall dark haired Shadowhunter glared at her brother. "Alec, stop being such a hard-ass."

He looked at her coolly. "Are you saying we should let her go? That's in violation of every oath we've ever sworn, Iz."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "We're demon hunters, Alec. She's not a demon, she's a victim. She can't help what she was turned into by that monster. He's dead, and she's free of him." She glanced down at Leah. "You understand that this would be a one-time offer. If we let you go, and you ever violate a Clave law again, there would be no second chance."

Leah nodded. "Of course."

Jocelyn leaned, exhausted, against Luke, who put an arm around her shoulders. "Alec, she can't make any more of them without the blade." Robert had returned the Blade of Belial to the institute, before it would be passed on to the Silent Brothers for study and safe-keeping. "She's harmless."

Alec looked at them, pained. "Do you think I _want_ to kill her?" He asked, a note of desperation in his voice. "I'm not heartless. But the law is the law!"

Luke nodded. "So... take your sister home, Alec. She's wounded. Bring her home. We'll deal with this."

Alec shook his head, hesitant. "I can't do that," he said. "This is a Shadowhunter matter."

Jocelyn smiled at him. "I'm a Shadowhunter."

"And I'm on the Council," Luke added. "Just go, Alec. We're not asking you to break the law. Just let us deal with this, our way."

Isabelle took her brother's hand. "Please," she said.

Alec glanced down at Leah, then sighed. "Okay," he said, finally. "But this _didn't_ _happen_."

He helped Isabelle away, back out to where their car was waiting. Jocelyn glanced at Luke. "You wanted to deal with this for yourself," she said, "now you get to."

Luke smiled, and bent down to out a hand on Leah's arm. She flinched away, then stopped, and looked at him. "You can go," he said softly. "You're not to blame for what you were forced to do. Go and live your life."

For a second, Leah stared at him blankly, disbelieving. Then, she nodded, a slight movement of her head, and stumbled to her feet, and slowly walked away. They watched her go, arm in arm, until she disappeared into the shadows.

"Thank you," Luke said, and kissed his wife.

Jocelyn smiled. "You're welcome. Let's go home and see what those kids are up to."


	11. Epilogue

Jace slipped, naked, under the sheets with Clary. For a moment, the thrill of being like that made her want to just press herself against him, sharing his warmth.

His fingers found her hip, brushing down towards her thigh, and his lips found hers. She laid a hand against his chest. His knee brushed against her leg, moving it, opening her thighs to his hand. His fingers slipped, softly, inside of her.

She was wet already, and took a breath at the feel of his touch in her. She reached down, tracing the planes of his chest, and wrapped her fingers around his cock, which was hard, and pulsed in her hand.

He slipped another finger into her, stretching her out, moving slowly in and out, his thumb brushing against her clit, which throbbed at his touch. She moaned, and bit his lip, gently. His whole body was pressed against hers, his chest firm against her breasts.

She pulled at his cock, stroking the length of it, feeling how hot and hard it was to her touch. His breath caught, and his free hand slipped under her, pulling her closer against him. Her nipples rubbed against his skin, hard and tingling.

"I want you inside me again," she whispered, their lips brushing. Wordlessly, he rotated himself over her. She moved his cock, lining it up with her slick lips. Smoothly, he switched his cock with his fingers, slipping easily inside of her. Her toes curled against his calves, and she sighed.

He kissed her neck, and collarbone, then moved his lips to her breasts as he began to move in and out of her, slowly, but picking up speed gradually. She locked her feet behind his back, pulling him deeper into her. Her fingers grazed his back, and tangled in his hair, which tickled her cheek. His tongue drew circles around her nipple.

He moved his mouth back to hers, his tongue tracing her lips. His cock thrust steadily inside her. The feeling was still new, and it took her breath away. His hands stroked her skin, moving gently up and down her sides, from the swell of her breast under her arm, to her hip, and back up again.

"Can we..." she broke off, hesitant. He pulled back a little, though he kept moving inside of her, and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Can we try it from behind?" She felt vaguely silly asking, but he smiled, his eyes glittering in a way that made her bite her lip, already anticipating the different feeling of it.

He pulled out of her, and she turned onto her front, knees bent, her butt sticking up in the air. He knelt behind her, his cock rubbing between her thighs, and up between the lips of her pussy, sliding inside again. The feeling was new, though, more pressure at the front and deeper inside. Clary gasped as he moved into her, slowly, then faster.

He whispered her name into her ear as he thrust into her, his hands on her breasts, his chest warm against her back. His thighs pressed against hers when he was deepest inside her. His fingers pinched her nipples, gently, playing with them between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them. She felt warm, and soft, and wet and full of him, his heat, and smell, and the glorious pressure of him inside of her.

It was more comfortable than the first time, less forceful, less aggressive, but no less intimate. His hands kneading her breasts, his cock moving faster inside her now, Clary felt more relaxed than she had for as long as she could remember.

His sharp breathing in her ear reminded her of the tension mounting in her gut, building like an earthquake, pulsing out from every touch of him inside of her. She gasped when he thrust into her, smoothly still, but harder than before. Every breath was a gasp now.

"Jace," she moaned, his hands pulling at her even as he pressed her against the silk sheets.

"Clary," he gasped back, "God, Clary, I'm going to come."

She felt her own orgasm just cresting. "Me too," she sighed into the pillow, "make me come with you, Jace, make me come."

His pace increased. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her, ready to explode. Her legs were trembling now, the tension unbearable. She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling it off her breast. He knew what she wanted; he reached under her, between her legs, pressed his fingers against her clit, rubbing it hard. She gave a little scream. He had pushed her over that final edge.

She clenched around him, her pussy contracting on his cock, which pulled him over after her. He gasped, and came inside of her, the pulsing of his cock in time with the waves of her own orgasm. They arched against each other, every inch of skin pressed together, then slumped, slowly, onto the bed. The last waves receded. She turned to kiss him, smiling against his mouth. His arms were warm and strong around her, pulling her close.

"I love you, Jace," she murmured, eyes closing again. She was exhausted. As she drifted back to sleep, her last memory was of his soft chuckle, and his quiet response.

"I love you too, Clary."


End file.
